For the fans
by SargonoftheHill
Summary: As a rabid pmmm fan, you of course love Sayaka, Mami, Madoka, Kyoko, and Homura. And every time you think about their story, you smile sadly to yourself and say, "oh, how tragic!" But have you ever wanted to just stand up and curse the unfairness of it all? What would you do if you could change their fate?
1. Chapter 1

I sat hunched over the keyboard, my face hovering precious inches away from the screen. My eyes briefly flicked to the clock, which kindly read half past one in the morning. I had been in this same position for nearly five hours now, and my back was beginning to ache in protest. Well, that`s not true, my back had been aching since 10 o'clock. Really it was my eyes that were starting to hurt me now, those traitorous little shits. _I wonder how long before humans evolve pre-hunched spines and eyes designed for point blank screen reading_, I pondered idly. _That is, if computer screens are still relevant after the zombies, or aliens, or nukes, or whatever._ I realized that it didn't matter to me either way, and returned my attention to the screen before me.

My eyes flitted back and forth across the page, left and right, left and right, left and right, scrolling down every few seconds with a subtle twitch of a finger. I eagerly devoured the story before me with brutal efficiency; absorbing the words, analyzing, judging them. I sometimes wonder if I should feel bad for reading over in minutes what probably took hours of hard work to write, but I digress.

I scoff in disbelief. _Madoka and Sayaka? An item? Yeah right! _I shook my head solemnly at the scandal of it all. Granted, I understood full well that the Madoka Magica fan base did more shipping than the goddamn Panama Canal, but there _are_ limits. _MadoHomu – fine; KyoSaya – good; MadoMami – whatever. But Madoka and _Sayaka_?! I swear, the audacity of it all!_

I clicked on the chat box hidden behind another tab and type:

'Hey Im reading this fanfic, it ships Mado x saya. Thats some bullshit amiright!'

I switched over to deviant art while I wait for a response. As I browsed through some pictures of Nagisa and Mami looking very cute together, I could feel some of the crusty, black ichor melting away from my heart. I lingered on one picture of Charlotte in her pre-rebellion human form; the one that the fans imagined themselves, with pick hair and a black polka dot scarf. I always found it amazing how most artists seemed to agree on what she probably would have looked like. _They should have just left her be_, I thought wistfully,_ it could have been a huge boon for the fan base_.

A message popped up. It reads:

'idk bro, they were really good together in the beginning.'

I make a small sound of annoyance. After all, doesn't everybody know that Sayaka and Kyoko were made for each other? And Madoka practically belongs to Homura. Breaking up _both_ of the strongest ships in the fandom was basically blasphemy.

I sent a message to that effect, to which the response came quickly.

'Don't be a hater.'

I let out a noise of frustration. He clearly didn't understand.

I went back to browsing the artwork in sullen silence. As if to prove a point, I searched for images of Sayaka Miki. My screen instantly filled with blue. There were pictures of her among the other four, pictures by herself, and some pictures of her with Kyoko, striking epic poses or otherwise being all cute together. I nodded, satisfied. _No Madoka_.

One image showed Sayaka with a mermaid tail, several pounds of gold bling, and a jauntily backwards baseball cap, looking like she was ready to bust some rhymes or engage in other delinquent but undeniably cool activities. The caption read: "bitches love mermaids." That made me smile.

Another picture depicted Kyoko and the blue hair beauty sharing a stick of pocky, blushing slightly. _Too kawaii_, I thought to myself, stifling a self-conscious blush as I forcibly reminded myself of why it is okay for a guy to love this series in the first place. _Blood, despair, style,_ I repeated. _The fights, the story, the character development, the mind-fuckery. That`s why I love it. The cuteness is just a side dish._

Masculinity reassured, my attention drifted to an image that was slightly less heart-warming. It showed a beaten and bloody Sayaka hanging limp in Kyoko`s arms. Kyoko`s face was wrought with despair, tears flowing down her cheeks as she held onto the blue-haired girl. It stirred up a storm of sad emotions in my chest.

My eyes were drawn to another image of Sayaka and Kyoko. In this one, Kyoko was pinned to the ground by familiar looking sabers, while Sayaka held both hands around her neck, apparently strangling her. They were both bloody and disheveled, and their hair hung over their eyes. The whole thing screamed of tragedy.

Frowning, I scrolled down the page. Another picture jumped out at me, this time of Sayaka alone and looking absolutely terrifying. She was surrounded by her swords and the long black shadows that could only mean she was fighting Elsa Maria. Her face was obscured by wild blue hair and shadow, but her eyes….oh god, the eyes. They were wide open, pupils dilated, and they screamed of insanity and bloodlust. The overall effect was quite disturbing.

I leaned back in my chair, my brow furrowed in thought. My finger began tapping the desk in rhythm, seemingly of its own accord.

_It`s so tragic_, I thought to myself. _Not just Sayaka, but Kyoko and Mami too. And don't even get started on Homura, that`s like…a whole different level of fucked up. This whole show is just so tragic. It's like Urobuchi went out of his way to shit on these characters I love so much._

I found my way into my bed, still thinking about my favorite anime.

_It`s not fair. Kyoko, Sayaka, Mami….what did they ever do to deserve it all? What did they do to get fucked so badly? If only there was some way to make it better…..something I could do to help them….._

_If only I could save them all…._

Have you ever noticed the weird way you notice things as you wake up? It`s like as you ascend into the realm of consciousness, the first things you start to feel are shit that your brain would normally deem too unimportant to bother you with directly. On this particular morning, for example, I noticed the feeling of being sideways first, then the warmth of my pillow, then the texture of said pillow and its pressure on my face, and finally I felt the light of the morning sun across the one eyelid that was posed to receive it.

I breathed a morning sigh, full of resignation and slightly bitter disappointment at the knowledge that at some point in the future I would have to get out of bed. I shifted comfortably beneath the blanket. _The future can go suck a fat one_, I thought, resolving to get up after five more minutes.

The sun cast an obnoxious red glare on the back of my eyelid, and I cursed myself for leaving the blinds open last night. I briefly considered getting up to close them, but quickly dismissed the idea as too much effort. _Oh my God, why didn't I close the fucking blinds last night, _I berated myself, _it`s not like the sun doesn't come up every fucking day_ –_wait….hold up. Of course I didn't close the blinds, I never close the blinds, 'cause my house is in the shadow of a huge fucking apartment building. I haven't woken up to the morning sun in years….._I cracked open an eye and peered out the offending window into the blue sky and brilliant sun beyond.

I slowly sat up and looked around. It definitely looked like my room, where I had definitely gone to sleep last night, but….

I got up and looked out the window at a totally unfamiliar landscape.

"Da` fuck is this," I mumbled out loud.

"Good morning," said a voice behind me.

I jumped straight up in the air and spun around, eyes wide with surprise. Or at least I assume they were. Obviously I couldn't see them, but I`m told that eyes tend to do that when people get surprised, and I`d say I was pretty damn surprised at that moment.

The voice came from an unfamiliar Japanese man sitting on the corner of my desk. He wore a nice business suit and looked to be much older than me.

"AAHHH!" I said, frowning internally. That was supposed to have been something closer to "who are you and where am I?"

I tried again a moment later. "What the…who…_what_?!" I sputtered. Stupid mouth.

"Do no be afraid, zis is happy place full of magic and happy," he spoke with a heavy Japanese accent, and raised his hands mystically as he talked. "You will be safe here wiz me."

"….Huh?"

He raised his eyebrows and did a bit of jazz hands for emphasis as he continued. "You are in craaaaazy dream world, where _all_ your wish can come true – hey, where you go?"

I pushed past the strange man and rushed over to the door of my bedroom. I knew that when strange men appear in your room and then specifically _tell_ you that you have nothing to fear from them, it`s time to get the fuck out.

_There aren't any guns in the house (thanks MOM) so my best bet is probably a kitchen knife or something,_ I reasoned. I yanked open the door and burst out into what should have been the second floor of my home, with the shaggy carpet, a bathroom to my left, two bedrooms on the right, and the stairs right ahead. Except, you know, it wasn't.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I found myself outside on what appeared to be the second level of an extremely high class…motel? Whatever. Not important, and not why I stopped dead in my tracks like a retarded deer, nor was it the reason why I was currently having trouble breathing. No, that was all because of whom else was out there with me.

She was a teenage girl, maybe 14 or 15 years old, about a head shorter than me, and dressed in a Japanese school uniform. It`s worth noting that her tits were crazy huge for her apparent age, but it was her hair that caught my eye: shoulder length and blonde, and done up neatly in a pair of curly, drill….things. I knew who she was.

I gasped dramatically, and it took all I had not to faint like an old lady. I felt like a teenage fan girl who had just run into….oh I don't know, whoever fan girls are swooning over these days. _Omygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygod!_

She walked past me with barely a glance, a tote bag slung over one shoulder.

I held my breath as she passed me. I stood there indecisively for a moment, bouncing on my feet excitedly before I called at her back, "Miss, uh, Tomoe-san!"

Mami stopped and turned on her heel to face me. My heart leapt into my throat and did a little dance there.

"Hello?" she said politely. Always polite, that Mami Tomoe.

"Uh, yeah, I uh….hi," I stumbled, realizing I had no idea what to say to her. Hell, what did I _want_ to say to her? There were so many questions to ask, so much to say….I had to warn her, didn't I. Warn her about….everything, I guess?

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing coherent came out.

Mami, who had been waiting for a few seconds now for me to break my increasingly uncomfortable silence, turned to walk away, saying, "please excuse me, I have to go to school now."

"Why muskets?" I blurted out.

She froze in place, her blonde drills swaying slightly at the sudden stop.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked over her shoulder. There was something quietly dangerous in her voice. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

But I boldly continued. "Well, the thing with the muskets is cool and all, don't get me wrong, but wouldn't it technically be more useful to use, say, fully loaded assault rifles, or rocket launchers, or, ya know….._anything_ else?"

Mami was silent for a tense moment. "I should really go to school now," she said deliberately, and with that she walked away, perhaps a bit more quickly that was necessary. I watched her go.

A tiny cough brought my attention back to the doorway I had come out of, where the Japanese man from before was standing patiently. "Are you finished," he asked, not really a question, and I noticed his English accent had dramatically improved form the first time he spoke. "because you kind of ran out before the whole 'explanation' thing could really, uh…happen. Soooo…" He gestured and I followed him back inside.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Ah. See, there`s the tricky bit," he began. "You know the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica?"

_Duh, it`s like, my favoritest thing EVER!_

"I…know of it." I had the feeling that this guy was messing with me like something fierce.

"Well, that is where you are," he explained, "in the anime."

"….In the anime."

"Well, no not in the_ anime_ anime but rather, if the anime were real, that is where we would be."

"Oh." I mulled that over. "So then…" I jerked my thumb in the direction of the departed girl.

"Yes, that was really Tomoe Mami, exactly as she is in the first episode."

"What about the others," I asked, trying to keep the resurging excitement out of my voice. Lord knows I had always wondered what it would be like to meet Kyoko. _Oh, and Homura too,_ I corrected myself, _no, _especially_ Homura._

"They are all here," he assured me with a broad grin. "Everything is here."

_This is almost too good to be true. It`s like a fan boy`s wet dream!_

"Hold up," I said as a thought struck me, "can I, uh, _interfere_. Like maybe change the story a bit?"

"That is literally why you are here," he confirmed. "I have granted your wish, the opportunity to change the fates of your beloved shoujos."

A huge grin tore across my face. With a bounce in my step, I headed for the door to my little room away from home.

Curiously, he followed me. "Where are you going?"

"I`m going to save them," I answered, full of purpose. "Sayaka, Mami….I`m going to save them all."

I stopped with one foot out the door and looked back at the strange Japanese man. "Almost forgot to ask," I said, half apologetically, "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, you probably heard of me already," he said, somewhat sheepishly, "if you`re into Madomagi, that is. On the internet, some call me the Butcher."

I let out an involuntary gasp. "I know who you are!" I exclaimed, "You`re the writer! You wrote Madoka Magica!"

He smiled, pleased at my reaction, and tipped an imaginary hat. Only it wasn`t imaginary for long, as a fedora seemed to materialize in his hand as he completed the maneuver, plopping it onto his head at a jaunty angle.

"That is me," he confirmed, deliberately straightening his fedora. "But in here, you can call me God."

…..

I strolled through the streets of Mitakihara, soaking in the sights. _This truly is a beautiful city_, I thought wistfully, _such interesting architecture_. Of course when I say I strolled through the streets, I mean so literally, as in walking down the middle of the road. There were no cars to trouble me and no other people to question me. The silence was….unsettling.

"Hey, what`s up with this?" I asked the Butcher, who walked along beside me.

"With what?" he countered.

I waved my hand around vaguely. "Where`s all the people?"

He glanced around as if noticing for the first time, then shrugged. "Shaft." As if that explained everything. "But forget about the boring stuff, who are you going to save first? How are you going to do it? Come on, give me details."

"Oh, um, it`s gotta be Mami first, right," I said, slightly off put by the sudden enthusiasm. "She`s the first to die. I don't know how yet, but I have to stop Charlotte from eating her."

"Hmm. Interesting." He stared off into the distance, apparently lost in thought.

I suddenly felt less confident in my plan. "What? Is Mami the wrong one to focus on?"

His eyes snapped back to me with a start. "I would not question your choice of target," he said, "But Tomoe Mami is….do not assume that it is enough just to save her life. That girl is all kinds of fucked in the head." He emphasized the point by tapping me hard in the forehead, although in retrospect it was unclear exactly how this was supposed to emphasize said point. "Even if you stop her losing her head, she might still….ah…lose her head."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mumbled pensively.

It was true what he said. Historically speaking, Mami did not have a great track record in the mental health department. Her default state of being seemed to be lonely and miserable, and she has tried to kill herself/friends on multiple occasions. I remember somebody once described her as 'strong in the arm, weak in the heart.' If I was going to save her life, I needed to ensure that she wouldn't kill herself or anybody else afterwards either. But I could worry about that later.

"I need to save her from Charlotte first," I said out loud. "Do I have any, like, superpowers or something? Like, that I could fight with."

The Butcher shook his head sadly. "No, no, no," he intoned ruefully, "you do not have any powers like that, and even if you did you could not fight with them. I sincerely hope your plan to save Mami was not to go and kill the witch Charlotte for her?"

"Uh…" Not to say that was my whole plan, but….yeah.

"You cannot directly interfere like that. Don't forget that you are not a character in this story, just a spectator."

"What`s that supposed to mean," I asked quizzically.

"It`s like…you are here with them, but this is still _their_ story. You can interact to a certain extent, but you cannot actively participate because you aren't a real character. Barely even an extra, in fact." He sniffed haughtily. "I don't allow self-inserts."

"Then how am I supposed to help anyone?" I asked, confused.

"There are other ways of exerting influence. In this world, people cannot hear us or see us unless we invite them to, and they will forget us soon afterwards." He held up a finger as I began to protest. "_But,_ they will remember what we say. We can plant ideas in their head, and if we are careful, we can make them do what we want. In this way, we manipulate events by manipulating people. The chess master pushes his pawns to fight, but he does not knock over pieces himself."

"I see, I see." I nodded my head knowingly. "Wait…nope. Still don't get it."

He sighed. "Perhaps an example will help."

He snapped his fingers and suddenly we were standing on a sidewalk in a totally different part of the city. Walking toward us from the left was Mami, humming softly to herself. As she neared us, the Butcher said, "Good morning," in a cheery sort of voice.

"Good morning," she echoed in the exact same tone, barely glancing up as she passed us by. She gave no indication that she remembered anything from our previous encounter.

"Huh. It`s like she didn't even recognize me. And we just talked like, what, ten minutes ago?"

"Yes, she has already forgotten your face, and even that you existed at all," said the Butcher, "but here is the important thing: the next time she summons a musket, she may think to herself, 'why do I only summon muskets when I could be using assault rifles or rocket launchers?' Later, she may even try to summon something else to fight with, all because of your suggestion."

"Huh." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "So what you`re saying is, even though I can`t kill the witch myself, I _can_ manipulate someone else to do it for me?"

"Correct."

We stood there in silence while I pondered. Or perhaps 'schemed' is the better word.

_Homura could beat her, right? Easily. Wait, she`s going to try to help anyway, but Mami does that thing with the ribbons….so not Homura. Sayaka? If she were contracted they could defeat it together. No, if Sayaka contracts then eventually she will witch out. Stopping her contract should be a priority. And I guess Madoka is out of the question too. Then that only leaves…._

"I know what I have to do."

"Hmm?"

"I`m going to Kazamino."


	2. Chapter 2

When I asked the Butcher if he could take me to Kyoko Sakura, he snapped his fingers and BAM! Suddenly we were just _there_. And by 'there' I mean in the lobby of a very classy-looking hotel; the type of classy that was all white marble and shiny bronze and polished wood, and that stylish but uncomfortable furniture that by all rights looks like it _should_ feel nice on your ass, but then you sit down and it`s like 'ugh what is this garbage?' _That_ kind of classy.

"And it`s Sakura Kyoko," he corrected. "Not Kyoko Sakura. God, and you call yourself an anime fan?"

I gracefully ignored him. "This place looks expensive," I commented. "Does she really live here?"

"For now she does. She moves around a lot."

I moved to a group of high-backed chairs grouped around a short table off to one side of the lobby. The chairs looked particularly inviting, so I sat down in one and was immediately shocked by the pure stiffness of it. The back went up at a right angle, forcing me to sit bolt upright in order to stay seated, and the arm rests were positioned in such a way that I couldn't rest my arms on both at the same time. It was the most beautiful, horrible chair I could remember ever sitting in.

"Dude, this is the worst sitting experience of my life," I said breathlessly, my eyes wide with awe. "This place must be really _super_ fucking expensive! How did Kyoko afford this?"

"Well not by paying for it, if that`s what you are suggesting."

I gave him a look, and then lightly tapped myself in the head. "Oh right, magic," I recalled abruptly. "Still, though, she must be swimming in grief seeds if she can waste so much magic on these guys."

"Indeed. I hear hunting is very good in Kazamino at the moment." He prodded one of the chairs, recoiled in disgust, and sat down instead in a folding lawn chair that certainly hadn't been there a moment before. "By the way, do you have a plan for convincing young miss Sakura-san to come to Mitakihara? You cannot simply walk up and ask her, you know."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," I said, grinning confidently. "I`ve already got a plan, and it`s fairly brilliant. Practically foolproof."

Eyebrows rose amusedly. "Foolproof?"

"Foolproof," I assured him.

…..

My head smacked painfully into the solid brick wall. My vision blackened alarmingly for a moment, and by the time I could see clearly again I found I had sagged down the wall into a painful heap of flesh and limbs at the bottom. I could just say 'everything hurt,' but while wholly accurate, that doesn't give justice to the sheer scope of pain I was enduring. My body felt like one giant bruise, and I wouldn't have been surprised if most of my bones were broken, judging by the signals I was getting. Blood trickled over one eye even as the other one swelled up, and my skull was splitting open in the back, and throbbing maliciously in the front.

I willed some life into my weary legs and slowly, painfully forced myself back onto shaky knees, leaning heavily on the wall for support. I spat out a mouthful of blood and what felt suspiciously like part of a tooth.

_All according to plan,_ I thought smugly.

About two hours had passed since I first arrived in the hotel lobby. I waited for some time before Kyoko made an appearance. I followed her out as she strolled through the city, in a totally not creepy way, and eventually I initiated step one of my foolproof plan: pick a fight. It is incredible how something as silly as a stepped-on toe can escalate so quickly with the wrong words. One accidental bump and a few well-placed words later, we were in fighting in a back alley.

Although to be fair, it wasn't really a _fight_ so much as me getting the shit beat out of me over the course of five minutes or so. I had a clear advantage in size, but that didn't mean much against a magical girl who was faster than me, stronger than me, and a smaller target to boot. It was a comically unbalanced match-up, but thankfully my goal wasn't to win. I just had to take the beating until Phase 2 kicked in.

I wiped a bit of blood away from my eye and raised my leaden arms up in a vague defensive stance. I had long since given up on the delusion that I could land a hit on her. _I hope Phase 2 kicks in soon, I can`t take much more of this._

Standing across from me was the fiery redhead of the moment, Kyoko Sakura. She was breathing rather heavily, but other than that she bore no obvious mark from our brawl. With a tired sweep of her hand she brushed away the sweat on her face, and then resumed her attack position. But instead of charging back in right away, she just stood in place, panting for breath, somehow hesitant to resume the beating. I noticed that her fierce battle grin had eroded away at some point, replaced now with a weary look. Sensing that my goal was near, I pushed myself off of the support of the brick wall and attempted to sure up my fighting stance, like I was ready to go another round if she was.

For a moment there was no sound save for our labored breathing, and then she spoke.

"Boy, you can really take a hit," Kyoko said. I thought I detected a hint of respect, maybe even slight admiration, or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.

"And you can (I paused to spit out some blood) sure throw a punch," I panted.

"Better than you, anyways," she taunted, her lips turning up in a sly smile, "you punch like a fucking girl."

"After today," I said between huffs, "I'd say that's not such a bad thing." She let out a small snort of laughter at that.

There was another stretch of silence wherein neither of us seemed sure of what to do. _I am soooooo close_, I thought, _better not screw this up_.

"You know, I can't even remember why we`re fighting," I ventured carefully, with the air of someone reeling in a 49-pound fish on a 50-pound break-strength fishing line.

"Me neither," she sighed. Her shoulders sagged and she lowered her arms and straightened up from her fighting stance. "I don't care anymore."

Taking this as a sign that the fight was officially over, I dropped my fists and gratefully leaned back against the wall, trying with all my power to not let the relief show on my face. _It's over_, I intoned silently, _thank sweet, merciful God it's over. And now for Phase 2._ I reached around into my back pocket and grasped my ace in the hole. I took a moment to mentally prepare myself; this was the most critical point of my master plan.

I pulled out my pack of pocky and slipped one between my lips before extending the small box towards the red-haired girl. "Want one?" I offered.

I held my breath.

Not literally, mind you. I was still huffing and puffing like a tank engine after the fight, I don't think I could have held my breath if I tried. But metaphorically, though, I was holding my breath.

Kyoko stood still for a single, heart-stopping second, her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she searched me with her eyes. Then the moment was over, and she flashed her canines in a genuine grin and accepted the snack without further delay, popping it into her mouth as she came to lean against the brick beside me. She played the stick around with her tongue before eventually letting it settle comfortably off to one side, where it stuck several inches out of the corner of her mouth while she sucked on it amicably.

We rested in comfortable silence born of newly-forged, mutual respect. It's the strangest thing: sometimes the strongest bonds of respect are spawned not from our most loyal friends, but rather from our most bitter former enemies.

_I can't believe this is happening_, I reflected in wonder, _I am eating pocky with Kyoko Sakura, the _actual_ Kyoko Sakura! I would have _killed_ for a chance to do this._

"Hey, do you like blue?" I prompted suddenly.

She blinked. "What?"

"You know, blue? Like, the color. How do you feel about it?"

"….uh….I don't even…."

"Cuz I _love_ blue! Blue color, blue hair, blue girls. You know, blue stuff. Love it all. Just saying."

"O-okay?"

An awkward silence followed. I wondered if perhaps I hadn't overdone it just a little bit.

"Do you live around here?" I asked, quickly changing tactics.

"Oh yeah," she answered. "I've lived in Kazamino since…forever, I guess. My dad was a Pastor, so me and my family lived out of our church while I was growing up." Here she paused, then quickly directed a question at me. "What about you? You from around here?"

_I guess she doesn't want any questions about her family, huh? Interesting how she refers to 'growing up' in the past tense._

"No, I'm just in town for a funeral," I flatly stated.

"Aw, man. That sucks," she said neutrally, "who was it?"

I shrugged and stared at my feet. "It's for a good friend of mine, an old senpai. He taught me everything I know (although I would never say that to his face). He died in a car crash on Friday."

Kyoko's expression had softened when I mentioned my old senpai, and if I didn't know her character so well I might have believed I saw some sympathy in her eyes. But the Kyoko I knew didn't feel guilt or sadness for the suffering of others, at least not right now. "That's rough. He sounds like a pretty cool guy."

"Heh. Yeah…" I smiled sadly. "I just wish we had a chance to make up before he died."

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Kyoko, who was suddenly much more interested in what I had to say and was attempting quite hard not to look like it.

I averted my eyes. "Oh, we had a bit of a falling out last time I saw him," I admitted reluctantly. "I can't even remember how it started, it was probably something stupid, but we were on pretty bad terms when I left. Honestly, what really sucks is that even after all the good stuff we had, my final memories of him are so shitty." I sighed melodramatically. "Actually, what _really_ stings the most is that I could have fixed it all anytime I wanted. I talked to his sister, and it sounds like he was waiting for me to come back, waiting with an olive branch in one hand and an apology in the other. But of course I never came back, 'cause I was too afraid, and now it's too late."

"Wow, that…_really_ sucks."

I slid down the wall and hugged my knees. I quickly tried to whip up some tears, which was easier than you might think. I just thought about Sayaka's character ark and poof! Instant tears.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, as I pretended very hard to be stricken by grief and Kyoko pretended even harder to not be bothered by it. She tried to keep her face passive, but it was obvious that some sort of epic internal struggle was brewing behind those crimson eyes.

Eventually the red-haired magical girl slowly straightened up and took a few steps away from the bricks. "Well, it was nice to meet ya," she said, her face sober. "But there's something I have to go do. Good luck, dude." And with that she turned and walked away, her steps filled with a new purpose.

I waited until she was gone to let the maniacal grin that had been tugging at my lips break across my face.

"I think that actually worked. Holy shit!"

"Holy shit, indeed."

I turned to the Butcher with a triumphant grin. "See, I told you! I fucking _told_ you I had this in the bag! Maybe have a little faith next time, huh?" I pumped my fist ecstatically.

"Yes, yes, very good job. And now everything will work out for the better."

I froze in my celebrations. The Butcher was giving me a look half way between amusement and sadness. Uncertainty nagged at the corner of my victory. "You know, when you say it like that," I spoke carefully, deliberately, "it almost sounds like you _don't_ think everything will work out for the better."

"Young miss Sakura will now be present in Mitakihara from the very beginning," he explained. "you may have intended this only as a means to kill the witch Charlotte, but that will hardly be the only effect. You have no idea what other changes may occur from this interference alone. Depending on how this plays out, you could be looking at a vastly different scenario."

I gulped. "So, like….what kind of changes are we talking about here?"

He flashed me a sinister smile. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Meekly, I nodded yes.

….

Kyoko had come to Mitakihara to find Mami. She had been seized by a sudden desire to make amends with her old senpai. Kyoko remembered the day she had stormed off vowing never to return, but she couldn't quite remember why (Some clash of ideology, or something….it had made perfect sense at the time, but now the whole thing seemed rather silly in retrospect). She also remembered the hate-fueled deathmatch of their final moments together, but she was hoping to gloss over that unfortunate affair. Except for the part where she won, that is. She had no intention of glossing over _that_ particular detail.

But she truly did want to fix things between her and Mami. There was one terrible image that kept playing through her head of Mami dying, cold and alone in some labyrinth, still thinking that Kyoko hated her. But Kyoko didn't hate her. Even now, she loved the blonde like a sister, and she wanted her to know that at least before it was too late. Maybe they could even team up again, like old times. She didn't have a solid plan, but she was confident everything would turn out all right.

When she first arrived she had gone straight to Mami's apartment, right where she remembered it was. Upon finding it empty, Kyoko's thoughts turned to panic before she realized, of course, Mami would be at school right now.

She briefly considered letting herself in through the window; wouldn't Mami-san be so pleasantly surprised to see an old friend waiting for her in her home? But no, that was not the kind of surprise that would be appreciated, and trespassing was rude after all. Perhaps she could wait for her at their old spot, by the fountain? No, Mami-san would have no reason to stop by the fountain, and other students would be there too. In the end, Kyoko climbed to the roof of a nearby building and set up to watch the apartment. When she saw Mami walking home from school she would swoop down and reunion the hell out of her. And there would be hugs, and there would be tears, and they would say their apologies and oh-how-much-did-I-miss-you`s, and all will be made right. Kyoko smiled to herself at the pleasant image.

And then Kyoko had finally spotted her old partner below her, but the red head could only frown in annoyance. Who were those two girls and why were they with Mami-san? But of course, they had to be friends from school, invited over for tea and cakes. Naturally, a girl like Mami would have plenty of friends, why should Kyoko be surprised? Well, no matter. She would just have to wait for them to be gone and then she could make her entrance.

But when the two strangers finally left, Mami went with them. Frustrated, Kyoko resolved to tail the trio until Mami was alone, and then she would strike.

And so the red magical girl followed them all across the city. She followed them in the streets, through the mall, and all the way to a creepy, abandoned hospital, just in time to see Mami-san save a witch's victim from attempted suicide. By this point she had realized that Mami was actually taking the girls on a witch hunt and the discovery made her kinda hate the little shits. Was Mami-san really looking for her replacement between a pink wimp and a blue idiot? Still, Kyoko had to admit there was some appeal to making her entrance on a witch hunt. Wouldn't it be just perfect if she could swoop in and save her in the nick of time? Yes, she could make this work. When the three girls entered the witch's labyrinth, Kyoko transformed and followed in their wake.

Now she found herself on the sidelines of the witch's lair, watching her old senpai fight the rose garden witch with graceful ease. The witch threw an unidentifiable piece of furniture as large as a double-decker bus at the blonde-haired girl, which she blasted in two after a neat backwards dodge. Mami then turned her muskets on the abomination itself, firing shot after shot as it flew around the edges of the room. Then Mami stopped firing and looked down in horror at a danger apparent only to her. An instant later she was lifted off her feet by a black vine and swung through the air like a toy.

"Mami-senpai!" a voice cried out. It was the stupid one, with the blue hair and the stupid face.

Kyoko wasted no time on words. She ran past the two useless little girls (eliciting two useless little gasps of surprise in the process) and leapt into the arena.

The sound of footsteps outside his door caused the writer to freeze, like in one of those nature films when the deer or whatever suddenly stands bolt upright, ears swiveling to and fro listening for the sound of imminent death. No, actually it was more like when a teenager is jacking off and they hear a sound that _might _be something to worry about but they're not quite sure and really don't want to stop, and they kinda start to pull their pants up with one hand and their finger hovers over the escape key with the other, and they just sit there in front of the computer in total silence, straining their ears for a hint of danger. It was more like that one.

The footsteps stopped just outside.

"Sweetie?" a voice called through the door, "Did you find a job today?"

"No, Mom." His voice was a dull monotone, carefully regulated to be free of any emotion. It was a practiced tone, one the writer had developed specifically for his parents.

"You remember what I said, don't you, sweetie?"

He remembered. "Yes, Mom."

"You have to get a job now or you won't be part of family anymore, right sweetie?"

Of course she said it again anyway. "I know, Mom."

"No I don't think you do-," she began, and he could sense the volume and tempo beginning their steady rise. _Rant mode- engaged._

"Ok fine!" the writer spoke up, hoping to cut off the tirade before it could pick up steam. "I'll just join the navy!"

"Well you've been saying that for months, when are you actually going to just do it-"

"Tomorrow."

Silence from the other side. He held his breath.

"….If that`s _really _what you want," she said, but in a way that made it clear that she didn't fully approve.

Her footsteps led away from the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well that was close."

"I know, right?"

The one who spoke was but a simple dude, sitting on the edge of the writer's bed. His identity was not important, nor were his traits. In fact, nothing about this dude was significant at all except that he was there with the writer at that exact time.

"And now, back to work," the writer sighed. He resumed his position at the keyboard.

"Back to writing more about your 14 year old girl lesbian color-coded super heroes?"

The writer made a face, even though he knew the dude couldn't see it from where he was facing. "I am not going to respond to that," he responded. To that.

The writer shook away the bad thoughts and refocused his full attention on his work.

He typed out five words, halting mid-sentence to correct a spelling mistake.

He stared at the words.

He erased three words, and then typed two more instead. Then he added another.

He stared at the words, swiveling idly in his chair.

He frowned, and backspaced until the whole sentence was gone.

He looked at the time; five minutes had passed.

"Writers` block?" the dude asked disinterestedly.

"Naw, this is about the normal pace I work at normally," the writer replied. He cringed inwardly as he realized how he should have used 'normal' only once in that sentence. Too late now, though.

"Seriously?" the dude laughed. "How much of this are you planning to write?"

"I only have a rough idea right now, but….. maybe 100,000 words?"

"No way! 100,000 words? You`re going to finish 100,000 words by tomorrow?!"

"Huh?" The writer turned in his chair to better stare at the dude in confusion. "What do you mean 'by tomorrow'?"

"You're gonna go join the navy tomorrow, right? You cant do that _and_ keep writing your stupid fanfic."

He continued to stare at him.

Then he gasped dramatically as it clicked into place.

"Aw, shit," he exclaimed in hushed tones. "I'm joining the navy tomorrow! _Fuck_!" He gazed in dismay at the unfinished story on his computer screen. It would never be finished. "_God-fucking-shit-on-a-bum-mother-fucking-dammit_!"

_And that's basically what happened. My sincerest apologies to all four of you who probably cared. Eh, let's be safe and call it three. I might still try and crank out some one-shots whenever I get close to a computer, but it would be simply irresponsible to try and write a long-running story from where I am right now._

_Whelp, bye forever probably!_


End file.
